Once thin skinned like orchid petals all
frustration was mistaken for tears.
Then resilience took over so to cry
only having the feeling of no amend.
So far bones resounded metal cold,
lack of nearness is not about fears
but to save weeping for better times,
trying to roll over any sign of dead-end.
Whether eyes or not drops come from
They’re salty stories and may reveal
promises made to oneself but unkept in life
like the notion tears fall not at our command.
– I own all rights to this poem –
Lucrezia Mancini Nardi